Sympathy For The Soul
by GekiDasaDaze
Summary: Ciel finds himself caught in a war between the paranormal things he never knew existed... he is then given a choice: One, he can be purged of his sins and his past, but lose the contract. Second, he can keep the contract... but lose his soul... in hell.


"Sebas—!"

He moans, a soft cadence that the devil simply adores, the sound like a dark lullaby sending shivers down his spine. A pale hand caresses the plane of porcelain skin, over pastel collarbones and scarlet cheeks. He seemingly smothers his lips—satin-soft and enticing— ignoring the boy's bigoted commands. The pair rocks rhythmically, and the only thing that was separating them now was the sheen of sweat enveloping their impious bodies.

"Young Master…"

The butler purrs, eager and affectionate, as he thrusts once more into the lithe body. Unkempt coal hair falls into the earl's face, obscuring mismatched eyes filled with desire. Gloved fingers amble up to cup a trembling cheek, tear-stained and bathed in red. Eyes lock. Hands quiver.

_Thrust._

"Ah!"

The heat was growing inside of him, like a tiny, match-lit flame, intensifying, spreading like wildfire. It wafts around them, tendrils of pleasure ensnaring clammy limbs, clinging to them like glue. Hands clench and unclench around the exquisite silk coverlet as delicate legs subserviently spread apart. And, _damn_, he doesn't know what to think anymore.

"Seba—Sebastian… a-aah!"

He couldn't comprehend the events that were happening around him. Everything seemed so ethereal, _so otherworldly_, that he couldn't make sense of any of it. Well, how could he? Especially when just a touch of warm, bare skin against his would obliterate every train of thought…

"Young Master…"

_Thrust_.

"Please—!"

_Shake._

"Young Master, we're 10 minutes late for breakfast."

Wait… _what_?

The young earl gazes up at his devil, an inquiry on the tip of his tongue. Something was definitely off. But before he could say anything, the panorama suddenly fades… to a blinding, colorless white. A moment later, he finds himself gazing into pools of blood-red…

"…what?" he mumbles, dazed. A white haze was still covering his eyes, making his head hurt more than it should. Ciel took in his surroundings, apprehending the disheveled bedspread to the wrinkled pillowcases, to his tousled hair and Sebastian sitting beside him. A _fully_ _clothed_ Sebastian at that. And then suddenly, it hits him.

_Oh, crap._

"Is the young Master alright?" Sebastian inquires, concern evident on his elegant face, as well as confusion and perplexity. "I heard you calling me. Perhaps he is not feeling well?"

_He heard me moan his name?!_

"I-I-I'm alright, yes. I'm fine," he barely stutters out, trying desperately to hide the spreading blush on his cheeks with suddenly realizing the hardness of '_down_ _there_.' The shame comes seconds later, a common reaction of the knowledge of having your first wet dream.

"Are you sure? Because by the looks of it, you don't look the least bit fine. A fever, perhaps?" Cool hands came to rest upon his forehead, causing him to redden even further.

Ciel slaps the hand away. "No, I don't have a fever, Sebastian. Now, please… just leave."

Almost expectedly, the bemused stare follows after. "And who shall dress you?"

"I can do it by myself, thank you very much."

An amused smile tugged on the corners of the demon's lips— "Oh?" —Followed by a horribly concealed smirk. "And wait until noon before you even finish tying your shoelaces? I think not."

He glares at his butler, the kind of look that would make any normal person drop dead or run away screaming. "Are you mocking me, Sebastian?"

"Of course not, young Master," the cherubim replies genially, that angelic smile he knows so well materializing upon his face. "As a butler of the Phantomhive family, it is my _duty_ to ensure that the young master's wishes are fulfilled."

"And as the earl of the household," he responds, imitating the butler's drawl. "it is my _duty_ to ensure that I am responsible enough to _take_ _care_ _of_ _myself_. I'm fourteen, Sebastian. You _could_ allow me to dress myself once in a while." He shifts uncomfortably on the mattress, covering his obvious erection with a pillow.

_Just leave me alone!_

Sebastian frowns, thin lips curling into a tight-lipped grimace. For a second, Ciel thinks he might disagree again, but instead, he nods respectfully and stands up from the bed. "If the young master wishes it…" he replies monochromatically, but there was still a hint of suspicion behind his tone. "I have prepared a simple Greek spinach omelet with tomato and feta filling, olives and sausages for breakfast. Would you prefer Greek coffee or—"

"Tea. No coffee."

Sebastian nods, and then bows, the gloved hand resting on his left breast. It takes a short moment before the earl hears the soft click of the door closing. Sighing, he hurls the silk-cased pillow into the pallid wall with a _'flump'._

_Damn it!_

He growls, tearing out his hair frustration, trying to figure out why heaven hated him so much. With an irritated scowl, he glanced downwards, registering the uncomfortable tightness in his boxers.

"Now, what the _hell_ am I going to do with this?!"

_~K – U – R – 0 – S – H – I – T – S – U – J – I ~_

The gurgle of water flowing from the tub was soothing, accompanied by the enticing fragrance of plumeria blossoms afloat on the surface. The sight relaxed his nerves; he could feel his bolts unwind and loosen up. Standing beside the bath tub, Sebastian poured some exotic oils into the water. It smelled zesty, mingling with a just a hint of berries.

"What's the occasion?" Ciel asked, approaching the tub to dip his delicate fingers into the sparkling water.

"There is no such occasion. I just thought that the young master should… _relax_ once in a while, what with all his hard work and everything," the demon explained, smiling as he finished placing the empty bottles on the shelves. He turned to his young master and proceeded to stripping him of his robe.

"Wait."

The demon stopped immediately and stared at his bocchan in confusion. The boy had his hands clamped tight over the front of the soft material, preventing him from removing them.

"I'll bathe myself," he said, moving away from the butler's reach.

This made him even more baffled. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said," Ciel snapped, mismatched eyes glowing in impatience. "I'll bathe myself. You may leave now."

The demon blinked. And blinked again.

Was his master actually telling him to leave? That he could _bathe_ _himself_? Ha! He of all people should now that he couldn't, much less tell apart soap from shampoo. He would just probably end up drowning himself in the tub…

"If I might be so bold to ask why…?" he asked, but he could already make out where this was going. A smirk played at his lips, curling in a knowing smile.

Crimson eyes watched in amusement as the youth glared at him, a futile attempt to shift the attention away from his reddening cheeks. "Because I _want_ to. Problem?"

The butler couldn't help it any longer. A low, barely audible chuckle escaped his lips, receiving a mystified look from Ciel. He approached the boy—steps agonizingly slow—and placed a gloved hand on the base of his neck, slipping the material gradually downwards, revealing pale shoulders.

"Wait—didn't I just say—"

"Tsk, tsk. Young Master, did you think that I would let you off that easily just because I agreed to let you dress yourself this morning?" his voice was devious, with a hint of dark humor. "You yourself know that you cannot—if might be so rude—"bathe yourself". I believe that all this stress you have been experiencing is simply a result of you trying to do things yourself. Please, bocchan, take time to rest. You don't have to do my job."

The earl wasn't given the opportunity to protest. But even if he did, he knew it would be pointless. After all, he could never win an argument against a demon—an incredibly deceitful and discreet one at that.

The navy robe slid down his shoulders and into his waist. "Besides," he added, a conniving smile gracing his mouth. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." And with another tug, the material slipped down into his bare ankles.

This was what Ciel had been dreading. Everything that he had wished (with so much passion) was happening to him right now. _In his bathroom_. There he was, stripped nude, with his butler standing so close to him that he could feel his warm breath tickle the hairs of his neck.

_Oh, shit._

With the grace and speed that could rival Sebastian's beloved little kittens, Ciel dove into the tub with a small 'splash'. The water was scalding hot, just the way he liked it. For a whole second, he forgot about the fact that he was stark naked in a room with Sebastian… he who was just about to wash him with his bare hands. He heard the rustle of cloth behind him; his butler had slipped his gloves off, and was squirting some shampoo into his hands.

_Squelch._

Such was the sound of his hands rubbing the liquid into his head. Talented fingers buried themselves in coal-black hair, making circles on his scalp. It felt incredibly soothing, therapeutic even, and it was a good thing that he stopped the moan rising in his throat before it came out. Sebastian continued his work on Ciel's neck, shoulders, and the small of his back. Soon enough, he found himself relaxing into his delicate, yet firm touch.

"You're really good at this, you know?" he commented, trying to sound as casual as possible, but his teenage mind supplied him some not-so-innocent ideas of what else he could be doing good right now.

The demon chuckled in reply, his hot breath tickling the shell of his ear, and—with much inner cursing— Ciel's torso gave a small shudder— a spasm of some sort.

_When did I get so sensitive?_

He was never that perceptive to the butler's touches—well, maybe he was. The feeling used to be awkward, but not impossible to deal with. But now, it was different. He began to actually… _feel_ something towards the demon. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that it made his heartbeat accelerate and his palms sweat.

Love? Bah.

Attraction. Never! Ciel Phantomhive was most definitely _not_ gay. Nope. Not at all. Besides, it's not like he actually _liked_ the butler touching him.

Not even if Sebastian's hands were trailing lower and lower, rubbing the soap all over his abdomen. Not even if he was gently lifting his leg in attempt to scrub the back of his knees. Not even if he could literally _hear_ his own heartbeat, incisive and hammering in his chest. Not even if his fast breathing matched the cadence…

He most definitely did _not_ feel anything! Yes sir, he did not!

"Young Master, did you hear me?" Sebastian's slightly exasperated voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Wha-what?"

He sighed and positioned himself on the left edge of the tub, fully facing his dazed master.

"As I was saying," he said. "Could you please face me that I might properly bathe you…?"

Ciel rolled his eyes in a façade of annoyance, but complied anyway. He was acting so… _pathetic, _and by the look on his butler's face, he was sure that he'd noticed it too. Sebastian's cool hands, submerged in the warm, petal-laden water, trailed across his ribs and front, gently stroking his milky thighs, just like handling a fragile wineglass. _(It always never ceased to amaze the earl how inhumanly tenacious he was, but so tender and humane he could also become when it comes to him and his beloved felines.)_ The accursed hand, or so he thought, started to drift lower and lower, sending sparks of electricity coursing through his veins. He did not dare look at where the animal would to burrow its nest, and instead, stayed contented at staring at the demon's pallid forehead.

Bad mistake.

He had let his guard down, his walls lowered, unarmed and doomed for defeat. He'd dared to do it at the most crucial moment. First, he felt the heat; like the soft warmth radiating from a crackling hearth. Then followed the rush of memories, illusions perhaps, from the dream he previously had. Images, emotions, even the sounds begin to flood his head. Everything is just so fresh that he began cursing his own imagination. Heat blossomed into his cheeks, tinting his ears and neck a vivid shade of scarlet. What made it worse was that Sebastian was _this_close to him, _seeing_ every twitch, _hearing_ every tremor in his voice, and it wasn't that impossible to assume that he could even _read_ his inner musings. The devil smirked; it made him shudder.

_Things couldn't get any worse than this... right?_

Wrong.

There was a flicker of malicious intent in those fiery embers. Unexpectedly, he felt Sebastian's hand hover over him. Electricity sparked in between his thighs. Then, his hand got a little _too_ close…

SPLASH.

He cursed inwardly for what his uneasiness made him do. He'd done it on an impulse, pure instinct. An accident, he would say. He meant only to push him away, but he didn't know that he would be dragged into the tub, too. Surely his butler would understand. Well… not until he saw his appalling state. His favorite black leather dress coat clung to him like second skin, cherry plumeria petals seemingly glued to his frame. His hair, now drenched in hot water, hugged his face, the scented oils coating his torso in a fragrant odor. Hanging awkwardly on the left edge of the tub was his leg, the only part of him that was spared from getting soaked. Obsidian-red eyes narrowed at him in… in… what? Well, whatever it was, Ciel was sure that it wasn't good. And on that note… "Good" wasn't the word either when the guy you have wet dreams about is practically sharing a bath with you…

_Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap….!_

"Oh—I—I—"he abruptly cut himself off, his voice losing his authoritarian tone. He wracked his brain for words, but it was futile. His heavy, questioning gaze kept him immobile, as if he'd just cast some sort of spell over him.

He needed to get away. Now.

Finally breaking free of Sebastian's hold, he heaved himself out of the tub, legs first, and followed by his upper torso, soaking the tiled floor with droplets of water. He didn't care if he was naked; that was the least of his worries. To put it simply, he needed to get away from all the embarrassment that he'd put himself into… _and_ to prevent any hard-ons from occurring.

The earl didn't bother with the towels—"to hell with it!"—and immediately darted out the door stark naked into a hallway, running recklessly up the staircase, ignoring the butler's pleas of "Young Master!" and entered his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Finally in the security of his room, Ciel slid down the door, cheeks bright and sweaty as he greedily sucked in oxygen. Ciel just hoped that Sebastian wasn't following him; he covered his face with his hands, cursing himself for being so foolish… so _weak_. Judging by the warmth of his face, he knew that he still blushing.

"_Dammit!"_

He was the master, the earl of the mansion. He wasn't allowed to be acting clumsy and child-like, especially in front of his chess pieces! They meant nothing to him; they were simply pawns… tools to be used for his reverie of victory.

_But… why…_

Why was his heart telling him otherwise?


End file.
